Em
by MoonsCalling
Summary: Em Mavrinac is sort of on the run from some killer that's targeting everyone she comes in contact with. How could some random agents who constantly hide the truth from her help at all? And why do her dogs keep attacking them? Later on, she realizes who's after her, and that she doesn't need anyone's help. Not ever again. Supernatural OC insert. Go to profile for outfits.
1. I

It's been four days since the death of one of Em Mavrinac's closest friend, and yet she hasn't shown any natural grief or anguish about it; and everyone's avoiding her for that. Some even have the audacity to say behind her back that she was the cause of the death. She never replies or stands up to justify those ludacris whispers, just because she knows if she denies even in the slightest, all blame will immediately be thrown at her. She also keeps in mind that even when she does ignore their constant questions and ridicule, they also assume that she still did it. Either way, she is to blame. It's a trap. It's simply, always a trap.

She jumped onto her keyed, abused and vandalised motorbike, and took off towards her home, her only safe haven. Pulling into her large garage, also filled with other and more valuable bikes and cars from a wide array of colors and originations, she pulled down the metal kickstand and threw her backpack onto her workbench, deciding already to not do her homework. Not that it mattered how well she could do each and every subject with ease, the teachers would give her a failing grade either way. She wasn't surprised when she realised that they were out for her too, some teachers can be way worse than other schoolmates. After all, they do have a tight hold on your future.

She greeted her two large dogs, a lazy pit bull and a fierce rottweiler. Em headed down the hall to her bedroom, and changed into a comfortable outfit, leaving on her sports bra that she always has on. Em, unlike most girls her age that hasn't yet had a medical procedure to make them larger, has big breasts, and they are damn annoying to keep in track. Like making sure that they don't bounce, because _wow_ it hurts. To sum it up, she hasn't seen her stomach besides in a mirror since the 9th grade.

Em climbed up the stairs and stepped onto the second floor balcony, enjoying the large green acres that she herself pretty much owned independently. Plopping down onto the soft outside chair on the balcony, she nabbed the house's stereo remote off of the single chair next to hers and turned on the local radio station. The old classic Jolene by Dolly Parton had just started. Turning up the music so loud – bobbing her head along to the rhythmic beats – that she barely noticed the Chevy Impala rolling up her gravel driveway, parking outside the gate. Only the loud buzz of the front gate receiver alerted her of the strangers' presence. Em quickly turned down the volume of the station, but not too quiet. She headed down the stairs and to the gates at a quickly tiring pace, already huffing by the time she reaches them. She was pretty out of shape, to say so herself.

She took a quick glance at the camera screen, stealing a second one to marvel at the most amazingly _manly_ – and so damn attractive – men in suits standing just beyond the tall slab of thick concrete. She's never seen two people so... well, perfect. She sucked in a deep breath, and told herself to act normal and try _not_ to think that way.

"Dude, this place is freakin' awesome." The green eyed, shorter but still very much tall man commented, stepping back a bit, attempting to get a better look of the large house.

Em's lip quirked at the edges and she placed her unpolished fingernail over the speaker button.

"Can I help you?" She asks, reviewing her voice, satisfied that it didn't waver in the slightest. That would've been embarrassing, especially in front of these guys. They seem like the kind that are quick to judge, making up their minds quickly and without hesitation.

"Ah, yes," The man with the longer, more chocolatey-brown hair with fierce sideburns said with a polite smile. "We are looking for a Em Mavrinac. I'm agent Washington and this is my partner, agent Cole." Mr. Washington introduced himself, both of the 'agents' flashing their badges for I.D. confirmation into the camera lens. "We'd like to ask you a few questions about Gwen Osteen."

She enters the long code that she burned into her memory, and opened up the heavy gates.

The men's eyes widened in awe as they got a full view of Em's home.

"I'm Em Mavrinac. Let's, uh, we'll talk inside." She gestured them to follow her inside, tugging pulling at the ends of her short shorts anxiously, now wishing that she was instead wearing pants instead of these. Her dogs started growling ferociously towards them when they entered the glass and concrete house, which made the men a tad nervous in their presence. She shooed the dogs away and they quieted down somewhat, lying down in their animal beds.

Em sunk into her plush couch across from the agents, who sat down in single chairs in front of her, and she grunted as her rottweiler left his bed and climbed painfully into her lap. _God, his claws hurt_. A Carrie Underwood song started to play over the radio stereo; and agent Cole's nose crinkled.

"Can you tell us what happened and where you were the night Gwen was murdered?" Agent Washington got down to what he came here for.

"I was out at running some errands," She answered, scratching her own nose.

"Where?" Agent Cole asked.

"The local art supply store and the hardware shop." Em replied, realising that the reason she went to the shop was still sitting on the workbench in the garage. Something suddenly caught her eye, causing her to look down, finally realising that her black sports bra was absolutely noticeable through her green shirt. _Goddamnit_. She cursed in her head, unable to stop the churn of nervousness inside her stomach from _now_ just noticing it. She _also_ now just noticed the hair on her legs from not shaving in two weeks. She felt like the epitome of embarrassment in front of these strangers.

"Would you guys like anything to drink?" She bit her lip, wanting to get out of their line of sight. Em couldn't help it that the way they look at her is titillating, yet really weird.

"Sure," Agent Cole sighed sharply. Going into the kitchen, Em pulled out some homemade tea and a jar of natural honey, pretending to be oblivious to the conversation about her from behind. Mixing the tea and honey together, she put them in the microwave, and returned to the two agents with three warm mugs in her hand.

Taking a sip of the warm tea, her body warmed with pleasure of such a fantastic liquid. The same sensations occurring with the men from across the coffee table.

"Did Gwen have any enemies, anyone that might want to hurt her?" Washington continued with the interrogation as he took another pleasant sip of the tea.

"Besides the whole preppy bitches club, no. And she wasn't involved in anything bad, my dogs would have smelt if she was doing drugs or anything, just like how they can smell the gunpowder on you two." Em gave them a look behind her messily thick bangs.

Agent Washington scoffed, lips raising in an apprehensive manner. She reached into her front shirt pocket, pulling out a box of cigarettes, placing a single one between her lips and lit it. She took a long drag, making small and impressive circles with the smoke coming out of her mouth.

"Do you know where she was buried?" Cole asked sternly, eyeing the stick of nicotine in her mouth, brows furrowed in a disapproving way. Em was used to that look, unfortunately.

She nodded. "In my backyard." The agents gave her a confused look. "We made a promise as kids; she wanted to be buried in the backyard of the coolest place on Earth." Her shoulders shook with a small laugh.

"Right, um, where exactly?" Cole-a-Cola asked seriously. Em promised herself that she'd call him that out loud if she ever sees him again, already knowing that she wouldn't, though.

Em pondered for a minute. "I'll have to walk you there,"

Cole's eyes squinted ever so slightly. "Why?" He basically barked the question her way.

She raised her eyebrow. "Because I know the way, plus it's way too complicated to try and explain how to get there. Why? Have some secrets to hide, _Agent?_" Em smirked, and a her conscience gnawed at the back of her mind for saying that. Shrugging it off, she sat up from her seat, adjusted her slippers, and opened up the glass pane window in the back of the house.

The agents exchanged rather exasperated looks, but followed her anyway. Washington and Cole trailed after her through branches, thickets, and unfortunately for each of their shoes, mud.

"Sorry about that," Em apologized, flicking dirt off her slipper, now regretting even wearing them outside. "It's this tree right here." She pointed to large oak with the name "Gwen" carved in the trunk with large letters.

"Okay," Washington confirmed the area. "Mind showing us the way back?"

* * *

Em decided tonight that she was going to forget about all of the negative and hateful things she had been mercilessly shoved towards. Tonight, was a – well, as mothers trying to be cool would say, "A single girls night out on the town".

She decided to go a smidge _out_ with her clothes, but pertaining to the type of club she's going to, she'll fit right in, probably not even going to be noticed. Well, besides the fact that she couldn't really wear her beloved sports bra with her white crop top, so her breasts might be a bit too attracting. But she knows how to defend herself if men decide to get touchy – the fuckers.

Earlier that day, she had figured that she had to actually work on her bike, finally after so much procrastination, replacing a few loose and damaged parts. She also completed a large new painting, and more fan art drawings here and there.

Contemplating for over a couple minutes, Em decided that for the sake of her outfit, she'd better take her car, a black 2002 Chevrolet Corvette, passed down by her late father.

Sighing lightly, she felt a sudden longing to have a reliable friend that's always there, like Gwen was. Em's home was basically Gwen's second. The first couple times she came over, Em tried so hard to always have an excuse why she was all alone all the time in the large house. Only after Em's first celebrated birthday, her entire cover and secret was completely blown open. But she didn't tell anyone, because she knew how hard it must've been to grow up like her best friend did. So the secret stayed between the two girls, not a word to ever be breathed about it. Em was grateful about that. Even when it was revealed, Gwen gave her no agonizing pity.

Em hopped into her car, pulling out the driveway, and a Impala just happened to roll up as the front gates were closing behind her. She cursed, not really wanting these men to see her in such an outfit. But wait, why should she be ashamed of liking differed styles? Exactly, she shouldn't, so she doesn't.

Opening up the door and stepping out, the agents' eye's widened then receded quickly at the young woman's clothing. Em's face went slightly pink, and she fiddled with the angel wings on her necklace.

"What do you men want now?"

Agent Cole's eyes widened at the sight of her outfit, and eyed her up and down, his green orbs taking an extra second on her chest. She tsked; men. "We just came over to um, inform you that someone else has, erm, passed on. That girl, Tianna, or whatever." Agent Washington elbowed him in the chest and gave him a hard look.

A pang of agony hit Em in the gut, but she remained stoic under their gaze. "Thank you for informing me, but I must be going."

"It seems that someone is targeting your friends," Washington told her, as if she was ignorant of what was going on. "It'd be best to just stay inside, where you're safe."

Em shook her head, getting back into her car, and sped off down the gravel driveway, despite the shouts coming from behind her.

Angrily she drove down the long road to get to the city. Her hands were sweaty as she clenched and unclenched them on the steering wheel.

The last thing she remembered was another car smashing into her own.


	2. II

Em Mavrinac woke up in a white room, the sickly sterile smell of it filling her nostrils, no matter how much she hated it. The hospital gown was damp and cold from her own sticky sweat as she pried it from her weak body. It was hurting everywhere. There wasn't a single muscle in her that wasn't sore, forcing her to lie back down on the bed from exhaustion.

"Ah, you're awake," a booming voice came from the hall. "How are you feeling?" The male doctor stood in the doorway, his short blonde hair cropped short, and square glasses adorned his young face.

She didn't answer his question. Em was far too tired to do anything, let alone move her neck muscles, not even to make a strained grunt.

"Well, I should have guessed that you couldn't speak just yet." He smiled, admiring her sharp cheekbones and aquiline nose, with an ever so slight crook in it, complimenting her deep cupids bow. She was quite the looker.

"It'll wear off soon, you'll gain back your strength soon enough. Shouldn't be but a few days, a week at most." _It better_, she spat at him through her super-duper mind telepathy.

He knew that it was against a doctors ethics to get together with a patient, but he would make an exception to the little Miss in front of him, so vulnerable.

He grasped Em's arm lightly, two fingers on her wrist. Counting along with his watch silently, he took her pulse, noting how slow and normal it was. He didn't mean to think so conceitedly, but usually when he did this with other patients, their heart rates always sped up rapidly. He was a charmer, naturally.

Letting go of her arm, the male doctor let his arm fall to his side. He then spoke up, nervousness wavering in his voice, "Forgot something in the lounge. I'll be just a minute," then quickly left the room, leaving Em alone to herself.

And she waited. And waited, and waited for that stupid man to come back, but he never did. And that alone irritated Em to a point where she just had to know exactly just what the hell was going on.

So she pulled herself out of the bed. Now, this was a girl, in her late teens, early twenties, who just got out of a car accident that she still had no idea how that had even happened, and was, on her own, yanking her own bruised, battered, completely beaten bag of bones out of a ever so fucking tempting bed, and right onto the floor with the grace of a retarded, limbless walrus. Amazing.

But, as the thin sheet was the only thing that cushioned her fall from the what now seemed tall bed, she realized that she was just being stupid as the blonde doctor came back into the room.

"What are you doing?" The man said frantically, tossing the papers that were in his hand onto the unoccupied visitors chair, and kneeled down to his patients side. "You shouldn't be out of bed!" His eyes were wide as dinner plates as he saw little dots of blood on the fabric of her gown. "You reopened your wounds," he sighed, somewhat disappointed that she was being so ignorant. It was always the pretty ones.

As if Em was reading his thoughts, she venomously threw a glare his way, and she sat up, knees still wobbling to her dismay, but she kept her face the same, and pushed passed him, limping into the hallway and out the front doors of the hospital building. But she was never caught.

Which was weird, considering that she was the loudest thing in the place. She stumbled through the halls, limping and and falling onto the tables and equipment that lined the place. The workers and other visitors walked past her as if she was a ghost.

And Em was not dead. She knew that for a fact. Everything was too real.

When she stepped out of the front doors, she realized that she was bleeding quite profusely through her piece of clothing, and that it was late at night. The streets were dark and pitch black. Walking around, or, more of limping around, she found out that, just three blocks down the street, there was a currently closed clothes shop.

Tossing a rock pathetically through the shop window, Em was surprised to find that the alarms were so loud. Quickly, she rushed in, snatching black clothes, backpack, and she took an extra couple seconds to get a sports bra. God, she missed this.

Leaving the shop just as the police were turning the corner, she ducked into an alley down the street, and she pulled on the clothes, carefully undisturbing the bandages that were beginning to dampen rapidly by the minute.

"Shit," Em mumbled, tossing the stupid hospital gown into the nearby trash bin with extreme distaste, rubbing her hands on her pants, the feeling of the fabric ghosting on her fingers.

Hospitals suck.

* * *

Sitting down inside a blue and white booth inside an almost abandoned dinner in the shady city of Wherever, Em waited for the waitress to come by.

"Sorry for the wait, sweetheart, the guy a few tables over just wouldn't stop hitting on me! Honestly, men can be so annoying," she drawled, snatching the pen from behind her freckled ear.

"Well, that certainly crushes my hopes," Em said coolly. Wow, that was lame – she wasn't even a guy. As realization dawned on her, the waitresses' face heated. She smiled.

"H-ha ha!" The woman laughed nervously, re-adjusting her stance and bringing out her pad. "Well, you certainly are quite the plum!" she giggled, pushing the glasses up her face.

"So, what can I get you?" she finally asked.

"On the food or numbers topic?" Em quirked a brow. "I'll just have a veggie burger and some tea." The waitress smiled as she strutted away just for Em's pleasure, sending a flirty wink her way.

As she disappeared into the steaming kitchen, Em sighed. Keeping up such a cheerful or not in pain facade is hard work. And, yeah, okay, Em is an awful flirt, but whatever. She got through to her.

The small bell that hung just above the establishment's door rang loudly all of the sudden, announcing the new customers.

Em payed no attention to anything but counting her pulse, making sure it was steady and wouldn't slow down or stop. 63 beats a minute. That means her heart has beaten in her chest 56,700 times since she came into the diner about 15 minutes ago. Even when the waitress came back, she had to tap on her shoulder for Em to even snap out of her concentration.

"Sorry to disturb you," she said, biting her lips. "Here's your food," she placed the plate with the burger and the cup of tea in front of the woman, slipping a small slip of paper into Em's hand.

She was already risking her entire love life, and life, for this one girl. If the waitresses boyfriend found out that she was cheating on him, he'd most definitely get violent with her. Their relationship was already bad enough when she had confronted him about his recent whereabouts at a local brothel in the next town over.

So when Em returned with a smile and a somewhat lusty look in her eyes, the waitress was relieved to find out that this girl wasn't messing with her feelings. A weight was lifted off her heart.

Em leaned towards the waitress's ear, lips just grazing the curve of the lobe. "If it's alright with you, I'll meet you outback in twenty." The corners of her mouth raised, and the woman's face turned pink. Nodding, she went to serve the table at the opposite of the woman that she might have later possible relations with.

Once all of the food on her plate was gone, Em found herself picking at the fresh scars that she had received from the shop window where she had stolen the clothes she was now currently wearing.

"You know, you really shouldn't pick at those," The voice of Agent Cole spoke up from beside Em. He was looming over her, and instead of finding him in a suit, he was dressed in a denim jacket and pants, a plaid shirt, and brown biker boots.

She couldn't speak. How had this man found her? Had he followed her all the way from the last time she saw him? No, that'd be impossible. But how could they be here? Maybe this is just all coincidence.

"Mind if I sit?" Cole asked, sitting down before she could really answer. "So, Em, how about you tell me exactly what went on that night when you drove off from us?"


	3. III

She didn't want to give him the truth. So she didn't.

"I went to the club, like I said I was going to do." Em stated, face remaining emotionless.

Agent Cole pursed his lips in a way that clearly said, _Bullshit_. "Right. And, tell me, where did you get those cuts?" He asked, pointing right at her arms and bloody fingers.

"I got into a fight with some drunk chick," she lied quickly, "Said that I was 'ogling' her man or whatever. Her nails got me in the middle of it."

Cole crossed his arms, staying silent as he observed her face, analyzing it all. "Sounds bad. Mind if I take a quick look?" She reached out her arm towards him.

He took it quickly and harshly, a gasp threatening to leave her mouth from his tight grasp. He was testing her, but she wouldn't succumb so easily, so she held her brave face.

"Chicks got some nasty nails, huh?" Cole said, turning her arm to see better. Em nodded curtly before pulling her arm out of his grasp.

"Listen, I'd love to stay while you poke and prod at my bar fight wounds, but I have somewhere to be." Em slapped down some money that she had earlier stolen from a teenage couple, and began to slide out of the booth, but the agent's words caught her.

"Are you sure you could do much with them after your accident?" She turned his head to him. "I mean, you just got out of a car collision. Hell, even I'd need a few days, maybe a week of R&R, but you? You just had it not even two days ago and you're already active. I'm impressed."

This had gotten her attention. How had he known about that? More importantly, does he know how it happened? Was this man behind it at all?

She pushed the questions down to the back of her mind to be ignored. "I have someone waiting for me," Em slid further out of the booth, but not before the man pulled her slightly back by the torso, directly hitting her wound which still bled.

"You're still seriously hurt, how could you escape?" Cole suddenly asked, noting now how he could feel warm liquid seep through her clothes and already stained torso wrap.

Em left without another word, walking around towards the back, where the waitress was waiting for her.

But as the back door of the diner shut behind her, she stared in shock as the waitresses body fell to the concrete, neck sliced into and completely ravaged down to the bone.

Em couldn't withhold her screams. Her beacons of terror rang out through the back alley, and Agent Cole sprang out from the front of the restaurant, Agent Washington trailing him.

They both followed the woman's gaze, took one look, and their expressions hardened simultaneously.

"Get her back inside," Agent Cole ordered Washington, who was in the exact same getup as his partner.

"What happened to her?" Em asked quietly, not taking her eyes of the mutilated corpse of the waitress. The men didn't answer. "What happened to her?!" she spoke louder, demanding.

Washington gave her a look of sympathy and pity. Two things that she really didn't need right now.

"We don't know exactly–"

"Then figure it out!" Em interrupted, clenching and unclenching her fists, getting off on the pain.

The taller agent sighed. "We'll try."

"Listen, right now, you have to come with us." Cole said, turning back to her, stone cold and serious eyes piercing through Em's being. "If you haven't added things up by now, there's something after you. We don't know who, or what, but they want you."

Em looked in between the two men, waiting for the punch line. "Ha ha, we're just messing with you!" But it never came.

"Whatever this thing is, it's working fast. Faster than we thought."

She turned. "Than you _thought_? You knew this thing was after me?" Em's face turned into an icy glare full of accusation towards them. "Why didn't you tell me? You could've prevented this!"

Those words stung the agents.

"When we saw you last, we only had a suspicion, we didn't know if it was true or not. Now, we know." Washington took a few steps toward the woman, promising no harm, and making sure that the message got through to her.

"What could have done this?" Tears finally escaped her eyes, refusing to be held back any longer.

"Right now, it could've been anything for all we know." Cole spoke up, marching to her side. "Come on, Sam, let's get her someplace safe."

Em wanted to change the conversation, attempting to distract her thoughts while banishing her tears. "Sam? Is that your first name?"

Sam nodded, and smiled. "Yeah, and that's my brother, Dean."

"Wait, brother? But you have different last names."

"Our real names are Sam and Dean Winchester, it's nice to officially meet you, Em Mavrinac." Dean held out a hand, but before Em could take in his hand, her dogs growled from in front of the trio.

"The hell?" Was all that Dean said before the Rottweiler jumped onto his torso.

It's chops snapped and bit at the Winchester's face, and he could only keep it back with his forearm pressed to the animal's neck.

He didn't want to die like this twice. The difference was, this time, he was going to fight back. He's not going to Hell twice.

"_State, state! No! Lorem ipsum! Hodie effugies; Nunc, ut retro!_" Em screamed at them to stop, to back off, to get away.

Quickly and obediently, the Rottweiler stopped attacking, and went to sit next to the Pitbull's side. As fast as she could without hurting herself, she joined Sam at his brother's side.

"Dean!"

"Why did your dog just attack me?! How did it even get here?" Dean sat up, breathing heavily from the events that just occurred.

"I-I don't know, I'm sorry!" Em exclaimed apologetically. "Can we just.. go now? I'll be sure they don't come, and they will _not_ do that again, to either of you. I promise."

Dean huffed from exhilaration, and sat up, still weary of the dogs that he swore were glaring at him.

"Let's just go."

The only thing Em could think about is how she didn't even know the waitresses' name.


End file.
